


Daddy Issues

by inbarati



Category: Preacher
Genre: Choking, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Priest Kink, Safeword Use, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, probably not as bad as the tags make it seem?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inbarati/pseuds/inbarati
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse Custer has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, makes a new friend and maybe, if he's lucky, will survive getting the girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jesse - What we are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fionas Apple (dawnmarie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnmarie/gifts).



> Editing was done so that each chapter now represents a single point of view. Sorry for the mess. This was supposed to be one shot porn. It got away from me. There's a bit more at the end of Chapter 2 than there was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm doing a little reorganizing, because I want each chapter to have it's own POV. Chapter titles will now be the name of the POV character. This fic is not one-shot porn any more. Oy vey, but my stories do get away from me, folks.

Jesse Custer can feel himself cracking under the strain as he rearranges the letters on the Church sign like he has to most days. “Open your ass and your holes to Jesus” actually sounds like something he might have said once upon a time in a darker place.

A place he belonged more than here. He kicks up the dust on his way back to the church. He can feel it sticking to the sweat trickling down his temple and beading across his nose. It itches, and he rubs it, lighting another cigarette. The only place hotter than Texas is hell.

He figures he might as well get used to it.

The air conditioning has been broken for too long, and he really should get it fixed before Sunday. And he promised the Schenck kid he’d try to help. He can kill two birds with one stone if he goes over to Quincannon Meat and Power. Betsy Schenck works there. He sighs a long plume of smoke and stomps out his half-smoked cigarette. Hopefully, the truck won’t break down on the way there.

***  
Betsy promises to try and help with the air conditioning, and Jesse tells himself now or never and segues clumsily into her relationship with her husband. He's as earnest as he can be in his hypocrisy when she stops him. “I like it,” she explains.

He knows exactly what she means, and he’s caught, like a deer in the headlights. He can feel himself shaking his head. He should explain, try to tell her how dangerous it is, but all he can say is “No.” He can’t stop saying it. “No. No, no.”

She plays with her bracelet. “Yes, I do. I like it.”

These are not feelings a preacher should have. These are not feelings one of the good guys should have. He leaves, barely keeping it together enough not to flee the scene.

The truck overheats twice on the way home.

Tulip is waiting for him in the parking lot of the church when he finally makes it back. He stops, out of reach. She smiles flirtatiously at him. “Don’t worry, Father. I’m not gonna shoot ya.”

He can feel her conflating what he was to her and what he’s trying to be now and feels the same stirring he did earlier, only stronger. Stronger because it’s Tulip, and they never found a way to tear each other apart that she hadn’t enjoyed. She had pushed him farther and farther into his own darkness until he had to run away from them both. He loves her. He hates who he is when he’s with her. Hates how much he wants to be what she’s looking for here. He gets into her car. It smells like her. Blood and weed and sex. Her three favorite things.

She drops the flirtatiousness when he closes the door. “Thanks for looking in on my uncle. Lord knows he’s always needed it.” They both know he’d run from her uncle’s house when he’d seen her gun on the dresser. He refuses to acknowledge it. She pulls a joint from nowhere and lights up.

He’s always preferred whiskey, but the sweet green smoky smell is something he associates with her. He remembers kissing the flavor from her lips and shifts, crossing his legs and leaning toward the door. “I was always fond of Walter,” he says instead of putting his lips to other, more sinful uses.

They fight, because they always do. There’s a job, because there’s always a job. Jesse stands his ground. He’s one of the good guys now. There’s an ear stuck between the seats. Tulip flings it out the window.

“Tell me you don’t want to. Tell me you don’t miss it,” Tulip wheedles.

He doesn’t. Not really. He misses the rush, but not the sick feeling that came after.

“Why would you ever come back here?”

They both know the answer. “Culture and cuisine,” he lies.

She pushes because she always does. “More like trying to fill your Daddy’s shoes.”

He hates that she knows him so well, but he can’t react. He knows that’s what she wants. She’s steering him right where she wants him to go. And oh, oh he wants to go too. She’s beautiful. Beautiful now and beautiful when she breaks under him. She leans back, and he can see that she’s wearing his belt. The one he left behind because he couldn’t bear to touch it anymore. He knows what its folded length will feel like in his hand, and he knows the sound it will make is different if he slaps her thighs than it will be if it wraps around her hip. He laughs. At the obviousness of how she’s goading him, and himself for wanting the dark, sinful wrongness of what’s between them, at the whole twisted fucking universe that has magnetized his entire being to want everything he ever promised not to become.

She’s the first one to touch, running her fingers through his hair. “You cut your hair,” she tells him, stating the obvious. He wants to lean into it, but he turns away instead. “I hate it. You put your fingers in a socket or something?” She slaps his forehead. He wonders how far she’ll take her goading.

Then she seems to remember that she’s supposed to have a goal. “I’m sorry, Jesse.” She swallows thickly, like the words left something in her throat.

He knows she doesn’t mean insulting his hair. It takes him a minute, but he looks her in the eye. “I’m sorry too.”

She looks away first. “I’m done crying about it. Y’know?” She flicks the roach out the window. He’ll have to find that and the ear before one of the kids does. “We did what we did. I mean, we are who we are, and that’s it. Why waste another minute wishing we were different?”

“Philosophy. Always a strong suit.” She hits him again.

“You know what? I’m glad we hate each other. Makes everything easier,” she spits.

“There is no everything. I told you I’m not doing it.” Holding his ground. No matter what.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh yes, you are.”

“Or else what?” She was never much for the follow through.

“Something,” she glares darkly.

He sighs. “I don’t hate you. I wouldn’t know how.” The truth is the only thing he has to give her now.

“Then don’t make me teach you,” she snaps back. He gets out of the car and back in his truck. He can’t stay here. "We are who we are, Jesse Custer," she calls after him.

He goes to the bar, drinks with an irritating Irishman, breaks Donnie Schenck’s arm and wakes up with a hangover in jail. Not his best night. But he feels good. Really good. He knows he shouldn’t. He likes the drunken Irishman, and he’s sure that’s wrong too.

Emily bails him out. He repays her by telling her he’s quitting. She tells him exactly where to stick his self-loathing, which doesn’t make it better. Though he doesn’t suppose it was meant to. By the time he makes it into the church, he feels as hopeless as he’s ever felt. The power’s out. He collapses into a pew. And then, because he doesn’t know what else to do, he gets on his knees. “God, please. Forgive me,” he begs the empty air.

There’s no answer because there never is.

He wakes up in bed. He can’t remember how he got there, but Emily is in his chair. She informs him he’s been out for three days. He hadn’t thought he was that drunk, but clearly, he’d been worse off than he thought. He doesn’t know what he feels. It’s not until he gets to the pulpit that he knows he’s not going to quit. He locks eyes with Tulip.

“I’ve let you down,” he tells her. And the congregation. But mostly her. “I’ve been quitting on you for too long. You deserve better.” He makes a pledge to her, to the church.

He remains at the pulpit, eyes locked with Tulip’s while the rest of the congregation files out. She stays in her seat, and he slowly walks down the aisle toward her. “Some things are gonna happen right now that you might not want to see a preacher do, my friend,” he tells Cassidy, the Irishman from the bar, without ever looking away from Tulip.

Cassidy gives a manic little giggle. “I don’t know about that, boyo.”

Tulip doesn’t look away either. “Get. Out,” she snarls.

Cassidy is clearly the smarter man because he’s headed into the attic before Jesse can even blink.

Tulip stands. “You were looking at me when you said you were gonna punish the wicked, Father.” She smiles and glances downward coyly.

Jesse plucks the collar from his throat and drops it at her feet. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

She smiles, big and bright, like he’d been gone and just now come back. She might be right. He wraps his fingers around her throat, slowly and carefully, squeezing as he kisses her. She makes a small, needy sound that vibrates under his fingers and presses closer. He lets go and wraps his arms around her. “Oh yes,” she murmurs in his ear. “Daddy’s home.”

***

Jesse remembers thinking that Tulip wasn’t much for follow through back in the parking lot when she shows up at what Emily has been trying to sell as a Revival. He’s standing knee deep in a pig trough full of water, so running like he had from Walter’s house isn’t an option. He’s baptized most of the handful of people who showed up. He suspects a couple of them just thought getting dunked would make a nice change from the dusty heat. He’d been wondering if he was failing them somehow when Tulip showed up. She was dressed all in white and her top managed to bare both her belly and be low-cut. Jesse took a deep breath and concentrated on not rolling his eyes.

“Save me, Father,” Tulip calls out to him, loud enough to get everyone’s attention, and Jesse almost laughs because he’d almost thought the same words. When he doesn’t respond, she steps into the trough with him and says it again. “Save me, Father!”

“Do you admit you’re a sinner and in need of a savior?” he drawls in response. He can’t stop the sarcasm. Tulip had never been religious and preferred to save herself. There’s no way she’ll play along.

His mouth almost drops open when she looks him right in the eye.”Definitely.” It’s too late to back out now, so he puts his hand on the back of her neck and the other one on her stomach. He’s definitely not thinking about how Tulip probably chose her shirt so he’d be forced to touch her skin and thinking even less about how warm and soft she is. He is making a mental note to do penance for being aroused by the performance of his holy duties. Good thing God isn’t listening. Tulip grins at him from under the water, and he pulls her back up roughly.

Tulip pretends it’s a hug, wrapping her soaking arms around his neck. “Time to get to work,” she whispers in his ear. He realizes at this moment that he’s always been wrong about Tulip and follow-through. He’s just never been between her and what she wanted before.

He reminds himself to stand his ground, even as the thought makes something in his stomach flip. “I said no!” he hisses back.

She smirks. “In the meantime, thanks for getting me all wet,” she winks and saunters away.

Jesse grits his teeth and beckons to the next parishioner. And the next, and the next. He sticks around to empty the trough and load it into the back of someone’s truck. He helps Emily clean up. He’s mostly deep in his own head, but he’s pleased that his help seems to have made her happy. He really does want to mend any fences he might have broken between them. He even goes so far as to help her buckle her kids in when she’s getting ready to leave, which earns him a bright smile.

At least he did one thing right today.

He finds Tulip almost exactly where he expects to. She’s naked, standing next to the window, smoking. The top is open, and she’s blowing her smoke outside like he asked. The light’s on in the bathroom, and he can see her clothes hanging over the tub. He shuts the door behind him and leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We need to talk, Daddy,” she says, taking another hit.

Jesse tilts his head back, resting it against the door. “Tulip, don’t...” he sighs.

“No,” she interrupts. “You’re gonna listen first. Then you can talk,”

Jesse just sighs.

“Please, Daddy,” she pleads with him.

“You don’t want me to be Daddy right now, Tulip,” he replies. “You came to my work. I’m supposed to be an intermediary to God for these people. I’m trying to do what’s right for them.”

“You said you could do what’s right for me too,” Tulip snaps.

“I’m trying!” He throws up his hands, exasperated.

“Are you?” She’s all motion, suddenly, snatching the belt he’s not wearing from his nightstand and holding it out to him. Her fist is clenched tightly around it. “Then if I did something wrong today, correct me.”

He shakes his head. “I... that can’t be what’s right Tulip,” he looks at his feet.

“It’s what I’m asking you for,” she replies implacably. When he looks up, the belt is inches from his face. Tulip’s knuckles are pale with the force of clenching around the thin strip of leather.

Jesse doesn’t understand this need. He’d run far to escape the brutality of it. Doesn’t know why there’s a part of him that wants to. That loves the smell of leather and the sound of Tulip’s voice when she cries out. He gives in, taking the belt from her,

He tries not to flinch from the relief in her smile. She crooks her fingers into his belt loops and tugs him toward the bed. “I’m sorry I interrupted service today, Daddy. I’m trying to be good, but it’s hard for me.”

He knows it’s not what he’s supposed to say, but he’s honestly curious. “Did you mean it? The baptism?”

There’s something soft in her eyes when she smiles at the question, and Jesse hadn’t known it would be the right thing to say, but something relaxes in her. She presses against him, warm and soft and looks up through her lashes. “I think we both know I’m a sinner, Father,” she purrs. “But I prefer my saviors up close and personal, which is why I need my Daddy. Can I please have him now?” She pushes a little, and Jesse sits on the edge of the bed, opening his legs so she can drape herself over his knee.

His hand automatically goes to the small of her back, and he can see her toes curl against the wooden floor in anticipation. He takes a deep breath. “What am I punishing you for?”

“I interrupted service, Daddy. I really am sorry. I know what we agreed.”

He rests the belt on his knee and caresses the curve of her ass. He knows God isn’t listening, so why is this still so difficult? He can feel Tulip arch just slightly, not enough to be disobediently out of position, but encouraging the touch. The sun is setting, and the light touches her skin with a softness he envies, just a little. He stalls. “What did we agree, Tulip?”

“That I wouldn’t interfere with your Church work,” she answers. “I got impatient, Daddy. I wanted to talk to you, and I tried calling before service, but you didn’t answer.”

“We had to go get the trough and then fill it,” he reminds her. “What were you in such a hurry for?”

“I got a call about the job I wanted to talk to you about,” she sulks.

“I told you no, Tulip,” he says. The belt feels heavy on his knee.

“But Daddy,” Tulip starts, but Jesse’s hand cracks down, and she gasps, squirming in his lap, and doesn’t finish the sentence. “Thank you, Daddy,” she breathes instead.

Jesse doesn’t feel right. Flushed and hot. He brings his shaking hand down again, and again. The fourth time, it’s harder than he means to, and Tulip groans into his comforter. It’s a deep, satisfied sound, but he can’t stop staring at the handprint he left behind. “Jackson,” he croaks.

Tulip is up immediately. She looks scared. “You’re white as a sheet. What’s wrong?”

He holds up both hands, defensively. “I need a minute.” He makes a jerky motion toward the bathroom. Tulip steps back, and he ducks into the other room quickly, closing the door behind him. He breathes, trying to collect himself. He splashes some water on his face. _Shit_. He straightens.

Tulip is back at the window when he comes out. She’s smoking with jerky movements and staring out the window. She doesn’t look at him. He makes his way around the bed and stands in front of her. She’s glaring at the only tree in sight, over in the graveyard. The sky is still streaked with orange and pink. Tulip is still naked, and the setting sun is still setting her skin aglow. She could have left. He thinks about second chances and up close and personal saviors. God didn’t answer, but Tulip might.

He drops to his knees.

Tulip looks at him, clearly surprised and he looks up at her. “I love you,” his voice is rough, and he stops to clear his throat, ducking his head and covering his mouth. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he continues, finding it harder to look up the second time.

He feels Tulip’s fingers twining in his hair, and he tenses, anticipating a rough response that doesn’t come. Instead, she gently tilts his head up and leans forward, resting their foreheads together for a second before pulling back slightly and looking him in the eye. “The only times you ever hurt me, Jesse Custer, are the times you leave,” she kisses him then, and it’s slow and soft and sweet and all the things he needs. He sways forward. Tulip smiles into the kiss and breaks it, pecking his lips before pulling back. Her hand softens in his hair, stroking. He can tell she’s thinking, and he lets her, kneeling quietly at her feet, letting his eyes close. She’s still stroking his hair, but her movements are slower and smoother.

“Maybe we’re just jumpin back in too fast,” she breathes after a while. Jesse blinks his eyes open and looks up. Tulip props on foot on the windowsill, spreading her legs. Jesse’s in just the right place, eye level with heaven, and he’s afraid to look down. “Give me your hand, though,” her free hand is resting against her thigh, and when he doesn’t react immediately, she beckons him with it.

He puts his hand in hers. He’s trusted her forever it seems, with a childlike simplicity he’d never been able to call up for the God he left her for. She’d never let him down, but then, she’d never let him back away. She was his rock, but she was also the hard place. It was easier to obey a deity who never made any demands because he never answered.

Tulip brought his hand to the curls between her legs. They were wet. Slick with want. Jesse looks up at Tulip’s face, a little surprised. She’d always enjoyed what they did, but this was a lot of enjoyment for a couple of weak swats. She shrugs lightly. “It’s been a while.”

He wonders how long but knows it’s not tactful to ask. “Can I?” he asks, increasing the pressure of his fingers slightly to show what he means.

“Mmmhmmm,” she hums, ending on a sigh as he slides one rough finger inside her. Her mouth parts slightly and her eyes slide closed. She uses her hand in his hair to pull him forward, and he doesn’t resist, kissing her belly before ducking down to lick her open. Her hand slides down to squeeze the back of his neck.

He’s grateful for the uncomplicated pleasure of it, for the ability to be good for Tulip for once in his fucked up life. He works with tongue and fingers, doing all the things he remembers her liking. He can feel things sliding back into place, the connection between them repairing a little as he remembers until she’s practically climbing up the wall, coming on his fingers. He slows down but doesn’t stop until she stops him, squeezing the back of his neck gently until he disengages, resting his forehead on her belly while they catch their breath.He’s hard under the zipper of his black slacks, which isn’t really surprising, but he doesn’t feel sick about it, which is. And that’s when the epiphany comes, like a bolt from heaven. “What if it wasn’t punishment?” he blurts.

Tulip’s not quite done with the afterglow, so she just strokes his hair and makes an interrogatory sound.

Jesse’s never been good at articulating, the words bringing a soapy taste to his mouth and darkness to his thoughts, so he slides his hands up the backs of Tulip’s thighs, cupping her buttocks gently. “What if it wasn’t punishment?” he repeats. “What if it was just because you wanted it?” He doesn’t look up, and Tulip doesn’t answer, but he can tell she’s thinking again. He wonders if she’d think he was crazy if he told her the air changed when she was really thinking about something but doesn’t interrupt.

“Can we revisit the idea later?” and the hesitation in her voice hurts him, but he acknowledges she’s entitled to it. It’s not a no, though, and he can hear a smile creep into her voice when she continues, “I kinda like being naughty and knowing I’ll pay for it.”

“I can’t promise,” he says, letting his hands drop, and sitting back on his heels.

“That’s not what I asked,” Tulip prods him, and he wonders where she gets the strength he’s never had, that she never ever backs away from what she wants. He wonders what she sees in him that he’s one of those things.

He makes himself put together an answer to her actual question. “Yeah, we can talk about it again later.”

“Are you still Daddy?” she asks, and he smiles.

“If you want that.” He looks up.

“You were a good Daddy. You always took care of me,” she tells him.

He stands up. “I like taking care of you. I’m sorry about...” he doesn’t know how to finish that, so he twitches his head to the side like he could shake the crazy out of his ear.

She touches his face, fingers gently cupping his cheek. “I never meant to drive you away.”

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t you. I just... I can’t-”

“I know. I’ll listen when you’re ready, though, you know that?”  
He doesn’t have the words, so he leans in to kiss her. She kisses him back, hungrier than she had before. She hooks a finger behind the collar and tugs, letting it flutter to the floor before she unbuttons his shirt. Her fingers are cool and soft on his skin. He feels fevered, hot. He has new scars since she last saw, but she doesn’t question him, just tugs his shirt off and lets it fall to the floor.

Tulip smiles, and he smiles back, feeling strangely light. He puts his hands on the wall on either side of her head and kisses her again, smiling the whole time, and suddenly it’s like time has turned back, and they’re back to when they’d first started, and the things they’d done had been play. Fun.

Tulip feels it too and giggles into the kiss. “I triple dog dare you to spank me,” she says, and Jesse laughs too.

“Well I can’t say no to that, can I?” he asks, flipping her over his shoulder as she shrieks and giggles and plays bongos on his ass. He tumbles them both into the bed, kissing her as they wrestle and Tulip tries to tickle him.

He finally gets her over his lap when she’s too breathless to fight anymore. She’s still giggling. He runs a hand down her back and over her ass, and she stretches under the touch, like a cat. “You feel good,” he tells her, finding the words, for once.

She smiles into the comforter. “Thank you, Daddy,” she hums, contented, and he does it again. She wiggles her ass, and he smiles and smacks it lightly. She giggles and shakes it again, so he smacks her again on the other side. Slowly the giggles turn to moans, and Jesse reaches between Tulip’s legs to find her wet and wanting. She gasps as he pushes his fingers in, arching to get them deeper. “More, Daddy?” she pleads.

Jesse doesn’t want to disappoint her, but he has an idea. “I was thinking you could take over this part, and I could keep going?”

“Oh,” she breathes. He can feel her tightening around his fingers. “Yeah. That’s a _good_ idea.” She maneuvers her hand underneath and rubs at her clit. He pulls his hand away slowly, savoring the small noise of loss that escapes her without guilt for once. Knowing that she’s touching herself makes it easier, and his first hit lands hard enough to produce another long, low groan. He doesn’t stop, this time, hitting one cheek and then the other. He can feel the heat coming off her skin, but he still doesn’t stop. “Faster?” she breathes, too far gone for honorifics, and so he obliges her, not hitting as hard, but making them come fast, one cheek and then the other until she makes soft little noises like she does when they’re fucking. “Can I come, Daddy, please please please?”

“Yeah, come, This is because you want it, ‘member?” He knows his voice is rough, and he feels like someone set him on fire, and Tulip comes, spread across his lap. There’s no lazy afterglow, this time, she turns and shoves him back on the bed, kissing him like her life depended on it. Jesse just cups her face, not trying to control her, but adding a touch of tenderness to the kiss. She reaches down without breaking the kiss to unbutton his pants, and he lifts his hips so she can shove them and his underwear down, neither of them having the patience to take them all the way off. She sinks onto his cock and his hands clench in the sheets. However long it’s been for Tulip, Jesse’s last time was with her. Sunday, which had been quick and awkward and guilty. But before that too, years ago. He thinks about baseball, and John Wayne movies, and Bible verses and finally, rasps “Stop!”

Tulip freezes. “Did I hurt you?”

Jesse breathes and shakes his head. “Just don’t want this to be over quite yet.”

Tulip chuckles and leans forward to kiss him, “You know I came already right? Couple times. You don’t have to wait.”

Jesse shrugs. “Want to. I like taking care of you. Just a little slower.”

Tulip starts to move again, rocking her hips slowly, She gently bites his earlobe, nuzzling at the hinge of his jaw. “You’re a good Daddy.”

“I want to be,” he replies, palming her breasts and rolling her nipples between his fingers just to hear her make the low, hungry sound he knows she will. She starts to move faster in retaliation, so he ducks his head and sucks her nipple into his mouth. Her nipples have always been sensitive, but she’s close enough that the added stimulation makes her come again, throwing her head back with a long, loud cry. Jesse just barely manages not to follow her over the edge, gritting his teeth.

He gazes up at her as she gathers herself. She’s still the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He really does want to be good for her.

She looks down at him, “Your turn,” she insists. She leans forward, taking his hands and pinning them over his head.

He sketches the best salute he can with his hands trapped. “Yes, ma’am.”

She doesn’t look away when she starts moving again, and for once, neither does he. When he comes, he feels it all the way down to his toes. Like he’s empty now. All the guilt and fear and shame over what they are is just gone. He’s sure it will be back, but for now, all he feels is good. Tulip rests her head on his chest, and he finally lets his eyes close.

Until Cassidy bangs on the attic floor above them. “I’m glad ye kissed and made up, but I’m out of whiskey. Can ye give a bloke a ride to the store, Jesse?” Jesse starts to laugh.

This is what they are. It’s fucked up, but it’s his.

 

 


	2. Cassidy - Owner of a Lonely Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no porn in this chapter. I think I did it wrong.

Cassidy doesn’t have many friends. Contacts. Partners. People he genuinely enjoys shooting the shit with. But until he met Jesse Custer, he was never quite sure why people did some of the things they did for the people they called friends. The man in question is passed out cold, and Cassidy is mopping up blood like he’s the bloody maid, all puns intended, though. So he supposes they’re friends. Have to be, or Cassidy would’ve torched the church to cover his tracks and never looked back.

But he wants to stay. In this weird, sun-soaked, dust bowl of a town, with his friend the preacher no less. The urge to run has been Cassidy’s long-time companion. They’ve been together over a century now. But it had left him when he landed, and the space had slowly been replaced by a preacher with ridiculous hair and equally ridiculous cowboy boots. Cassidy shakes his head and keeps scrubbing. Funny ol’ world, innit?

He’s a strange bird, Jesse Custer is. Cassidy doesn’t know why he’s here in the dust and the heat. He moves like someone better suited to the city. Bright lights and dancing. Somewhere his taste in whiskey would be molded into something better than battery acid. Cassidy makes yet another mental note to replace the wine he stole. Jesse had been more upset about that than Cassidy drinking all his whiskey. Cassidy shakes his head. There’s got to be a story to the man, but Jesse hasn’t told it yet. If Cassidy's entirely honest, half the reason he’s staying is that he wants to know. He chuckles and scrubs harder. This kind of foolishness is probably going to be the thing that ends him, but he bought the ticket when he decided to stay. He might as well enjoy the ride.

And that’s why, a couple of weeks later, he takes the prune-faced church lady to heart when she tells him to help out. Jesse is out. Probably praying over some hopeless case.Truth be told, he’s not even hungover yet. Still high from his outing the previous night. Church lady clearly knows. “I’m on it,” he reassures her, slumping into the chair by the door.

She doesn’t look impressed. “You don’t look on it.”

Cassidy thinks she’d be fun if she ever relaxed. He looks at the ragged sweatpants he found in the attic, “This is my ‘on it’ outfit,” he wheedles, trying to get her to smile.

She doesn’t, but she leaves. He’s going to need some clothes.

There’s a box of them in the closet with the van keys, as it happens. They fit well enough. Cassidy shucks his sweatpants right there in the closet, grinning to himself when he imagines the Church Lady finding them there. They’d been none too clean when he put them on. Even he can smell last night’s bender on them. He leaves them on the floor and grabs the keys, flipping them in his hand. Then he realizes he has no idea where he’s supposed to be taking the damn coffin. He wanders out, deciding to see if Molly Malone - he supposes he should find out what her name is - is in the church.

He stops short. He can hear Jesse’s heartbeat in the other room. He turns. “Padre, is that you?” When the man in question leans forward, Cassidy sees the mostly empty bottle of whiskey in front of him. Jesse doesn’t drink during daylight hours, normally. He waits until his congregation is snug in their beds to get skunked. Cassidy moves closer, cautious.

Jesse fixes him with a drunken stare. “I have something I want to show you.”

The Padre is dead serious, and something in Cassidy reacts. He feels the alarm, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, but he ignores it. The Padre is a good man. “So?” Cassidy shrugs. “Show me.”

“Not here,” Jesse practically swims to his feet. Cassidy offers his arm, and Jesse leads the way to his bedroom. Cassidy has to shake himself a little and remind himself that mooning like Molly Malone out in the chapel clearly doesn’t work on preachers who got beaten with the dark and handsome stick. He helps the Padre into the one chair.

“Shut the door,” Jesse tells him, and he does. He looks back at Jesse, keenly aware that the man looks frustrated, but puzzled as to why. “ _ **Hop!**_ ” he commands, and Cassidy does. That’s when he twigs. He laughs and points at his own feet. “ _ **Sing me some Johnny Cash!**_ ”

“Me some Johnny Cash” Cassidy sings because he doesn’t actually know any Johnny Cash lyrics. He’d never been much for music. He laughs. It’s weird, but fun.

“ _ **Hop and tell me a secret,**_ ” Jesse commands, and a secret comes to mind, but he finds he can pick, so he chooses another.

“I like Justin Bieber. SHITE!” It’s at least less embarrassing than the first thing that came to mind.

“ _ **Hop and tell me the governor of Texas,**_ ” Jesse orders.

Cassidy wonders briefly what the hopping is about. “Bloody Chuck Norris! I don’t know that.” He feels oddly warm. Flushed even.

“ _ **Box.**_ "

Cassidy does. He’s feeling for the edges of it and finds that he can do whatever he wants as long as it’s boxing. He can just barely follow the order, or he can try to be impressive. He puts some flourish on it and feels that warmth again when Jesse smiles.

“ _ **Faster,**_ ” Jesse demands. And Cassidy moves faster. Twice more Jesse demands speed, and Cassidy is at the edge of his ability. He’s watching the Padre out of the corner of his eye. Jesse’s sweating more than he is, and all he’s doing is sitting in the chair. “ _ **Fly!**_ ” and he finds if Jesse wants him to, he can. Until the wall gets in the way.

Next thing Cassidy knows, he’s flat on his back on the floor. Jesse’s bending over him. “Shit. Cass? You okay?”

Cassidy is about to shrug it off when Jesse’s hands touch his face. He feels strangely warm again and decides not to argue. He grins. “It’s awesome.”

It still is, even when Jesse sets his nose. Cassidy can’t stop smiling. Jesse quirks a little smile back, and Cassidy gets that flushed feeling again. He goes and gets a package of frozen peas from the fridge. His nose hurts the most, but the package will get in the way, so he puts it on his head instead.

Jesse slumps back into the chair. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Cassidy paces manically. “As I see it, there’s three possible explanations here.” Jesse does not look at him, and that feels terrible, but Cassidy soldiers on. “Number one, John Travolta. You know the movie. That one where he gets his superpowers from a brain tumor.” Jesse’s still not looking, and Cassidy finds he’s pacing closer without meaning to, like Jesse’s some kind of magnet. “Number two, Jason Bourne gets his power from a secret government agency. Or, and it’s the least likely, but it’s my favorite scenario, you’re a Jedi.” Cassidy holds up three fingers, hoping to get Jesse to smile. He doesn’t, so Cassidy rushes to finish. “Now assuming it’s not number one,” and Jesse is still not responding, and it’s unbearable, so Cassidy gets closer, and crouches so he can see Jesse’s face, “how unbelievably stoked are we, huh?”

Jesse looks haunted. Tortured even. “All right,” Cassidy sighs, not able to stop himself from groaning a little as he lowers himself carefully onto the bed. “Not very stoked at all, it might seem.” He wants to kiss the stubbled face in front of him until Jesse forgets anything but kissing, but he figures that won’t end well, so he tries talking more. “How long have you had it, do you think?”

Jesse looks lost for a minute before he speaks. “Last night?” He stares into the middle distance. “Maybe longer. I’ve been feeling... different.”

Cassidy leans in. This might be the opening he wants. “How different?” He shakes his head. “I mean different how?”

Jesse finally meets his eyes and the warm feeling spreads all over. “What?”

Cassidy relents because usually, Jesse’s sharper than that. He describes a shape in the air with his hand instead of winding it into the Preacher’s hair. “Well, what does it feel like?”

Jesse looks away. “Well, it’s crazy.”

For a second, Cassidy feels crazy himself. Wildly out of control. Desperate to have the man in front of him look at him again. He tamps down on the surge of emotion. “I know ALL kinds of crazy, all right?” Jesse looks at him again, nervous. Cassidy ignores the irony. “Just, tell me how it feels.”

“It feels like...” Jesse lets the sentence trail off, staring into that middle distance for a bit, “...there’s a big blender in my gut. And inside that blender, there’s everything. Love,” he looks at Cassidy when he says the word, and now he feels warm and tingly. Cassidy shifts slightly in his seat and focuses on Jesse’s lips. “Fire, ice, polonium, ice cream, spiders... everything.” He’d turned away while he was listing things he felt. He turned back and looked deep into Cassidy’s eyes. “All of God’s creation,” he murmured as he gazed into Cassidy’s eyes like there was something beautiful to be found there. “Inside of me. You know that kind of crazy?”

Jesse’s eyes turn challenging, but Cassidy is well and truly caught. He can’t look away. He flounders. Fuck me, he thinks. I had to fall for a crazy man who might actually have the voice of God. Billy would laugh at my sorry arse. He has to say something. “Well....” he starts.

Jesse sighs and pulls away. “I didn’t think so. I’m late.”

“No!” Cassidy cries, grabbing Jesse by the arm. “Just sit down a minute!” Watching Jesse close up hurt in a way that was curiously physical. All Cassidy’s muscles had tensed. It was worse than any kind of withdrawal. He takes a deep breath and continues to try and talk tall, dark and God-crazy down from whatever ledge it is he’s preparing himself for. “You’re in shock. Power coming out of the blue like this. I dunno what it is, but it is very shocking. It is.” He realizes he might be speaking a little from experience. “Might even seem like a curse, at first.” The two of them together, Jesse’s voice and Cassidy being unkillable... they could really make a go of it. “But you just consider this, all right?” He gets low, so he’s in Jesse’s line of sight again, points a finger at him. “It. Doesn’t. Have. To. Be.” He fixes Jesse with a serious look. “Someone like you, with something like this? I mean come on, Padre. Just imagine the possibilities here, huh?”

And Jesse does look thoughtful. But they both have errands to run, so they just sort of nod awkwardly and part ways.

Cassidy is returning from the crematorium when he sees the truck. He’d managed not to fuck up his errands, which is surprising to no one more than him. He follows the truck back to the church but stays about a quarter mile down the road and watches when they stop near the church. They get out, and Cassidy sees them load up. He’s had his share of run-ins with vampire hunters, but they usually prefer stone age tools. Stakes, holy water. The whole lot of them have read too many books. These two, though. They’d enough firepower to arm a militia. Cassidy was pretty sure it wouldn’t kill him, but he was certain it would be a lasting kind of pain. So he accelerated right into them. He could bury them next to their friends.

He hits them hard and hops out of the van, covered in the ashes of the dead guy who’d been his errand. Dammit. He was gonna have to clean that up, or church lady would look at him with an even prunier face. Cassidy makes a mental note to see if he can’t get her laid. It won’t be easy, and it can’t be him, but it might unclench her a bit. Then he sighs and trudges toward the church. He’s gonna need something to put the bits in. And a vacuum.  
***

Cassidy aches. Angels. Bloody buggering angels. Or they were crazy. Or they were trying to make him think he was. They might be succeeding. Cassidy shook his head as he watched them drive away. But, he had money in his pocket, and hopefully they were scared enough to stay away from Jesse until he figures out how to get the stubborn fucker to run. He needs to think. Drugs first, then.

He doesn’t find Jesse until the next morning. He ‘s sitting in the chapel, praying. Cassidy sits behind him and tries not to roll his eyes. He waits until Jesse lifts his head. “A word, if I may?”

Cassidy can tell Jesse’s already shut down. “I’m busy, Cass,” Jesse says without looking at him. “You got two minutes.”

Well, the nickname is hopeful. Cassidy likes the sound of that. “No, no, no. Two minutes isn’t enough. It’s complicated!”

Jesse says “Well summarize,” over his shoulder and Cassidy wonders when it became so important to have the man look at him.

Oh, well... that’s not really a strong suit.” He says, trying to buy time. Jesse keeps walking “All right. You know the other night when we kinda tied one on?”

“No, not really,” Jesse mumbles absently, looking around the room.

Cassidy can’t help but chuckle at that, remembering resting his head on Jesse’s thigh with another strange flash of warmth. “‘Course not. You were bleezered. But I mean, after that, these two fellers come by, right? Dressed as cowboy blokes on the outside, but sounding more like two blokes who had just come stumblin out of a club in Clerkenwell,” he chuckles again at his own wit, “if you know what I’m trying to say.”

“I have no idea,” Jesse says, leaning over the half wall into the kitchen in a way that brings Cassidy up short. He’s always been a bit perverse if he’s honest, but a thing for a man in a collar is new. I wonder what he could make me do, with that voice of his.

He shakes himself. “All right. I suppose it is a bit confusin.” Jesse walks away from him again. “But the point is things got testy, right? Then things got rough. Now I’m a big believer in live and let live, but when someone comes after one of my friends brandishing a bloody chainsaw, we’re gonna have issues.”

“Right,” Jesse says shrugging into his jacket. “Where are my keys?”

Cassidy sputters. Has Jesse heard a word he’s said? “I thought they were here for me, right?” He needs Jesse to understand. “I thought ‘This is my problem and I’m gonna handle it on me own,’ and I did!” He wants to grab Jesse and shake him, but he limits himself to making an emphatic gesture. “A dozen pieces, buried in a suitcase,” he elaborates as Jesse finds his keys on the desk, “And that’s it. Done.”

“Good,” Jesse says like Cassidy is done. But that’s not the end of the story.

Cassidy has to chase after him as he strides toward the door. “Good, nah - well, good, except they come back.”

Jesse finally turns to face him. “Who?”

It stings. “Who? What d’ye mean, Who?” he snaps. “Honestly, will ye pay attention? The guys, The ones I was tellin you, they were following me halfway across the country!”

Jesse looks confused, and then huffs in annoyance. “Right. Vampire hunters?”

Ah, so he does remember them drinking. “Yes! Except --- Except they weren’t vampire hunters.” He can feel Jesse rolling his eyes, so he rushes on. “They were secret government agency clones, I think.” He decides not to mention the angel thing. “Or like androids with human innards.” Jesse scoffs.”I mean honestly, I don’t know how they do it. They technology’s incredible, right?” He chuckles nervously, feeling Jesse’s annoyance.

“Is that an apple pipe?” Jesse asks.

Cassidy looks at his hand. It is. He’d forgotten to put it down. “Yeah, but that’s not what this is about,” he retorts. “You know, I got---” he’s cut off as Jesse throws the door open and he has to jump out of the way of the sunlight. Shite. He throws on a blanket and a hat and runs after the preacher. “You ever been to New York?” he yells at Jesse, who is examining the van where he smashed the angels with it and looking displeased. Dammit. “Or San Francisco? Tijuana? The stories I could tell you about TJ, man...”

“What’re you talking about now?” Jesse sighs, picking things out of the grille of the van.

“I'm talking about we have to get ye out of here!” Cassidy insists. “Road trip. You gotta know that’s where this is headed.”

Jesse shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere. Did something happen to the van?”

Cassidy doesn’t lie. “Yeah, that was the clone people. That was the second time I killed them, there.”

Jesse rolls his eyes again and marches toward his truck. “And what were you smoking.” Cassidy wonders if he remembers stealing the bottle of concoction and chugging until he passed out. It’s a bit hypocritical to judge a little pot when you’re drinking mystery booze, he thinks but doesn’t say. “Attic insulation, mostly,” he tells Jesse. It’s not entirely untrue even, but he’d only tried it for shits and giggles after the pot was gone. He just wants Jesse to respond. He doesn’t. “But look, that’s not what this is about, you know?”

Jesse finally looks at him when they reach the truck. “Cassidy, what is wrong with you?”

Him? Cassidy bristles at the accusation, mostly because he knows he deserves it. He feels strange around Jesse, and he can’t seem to stop himself from making it weird. He gets defensive. “What’s wrong with you, huh?” he shouts back at Jesse.

Jesse responds more patiently than Cassidy probably deserves. “I’ve got no air conditioning. Fix the damn thing already, will you?” He yanks the car door open and climbs in.

Cassidy follows him right up to the door. “Look, Padre, I’m trying to tell ye, that thing you got inside you, people, they’re gonna want that.”

Jesse looks at him with the same look he’d given Cassidy in his bedroom - the God blender guts look. His heart sinks and Jesse says “And I’m going to give it to them,” with a small, secretive smile that Cassidy hates without understanding why. Jesse looks Cassidy up and down. “Nice outfit, by the way.”

Cassidy can’t even feel the sting of it through the fear he might never see Jesse again if the angels get hold of him. He watches Jesse drive off, a painful knot burning in his chest as if he’d tried to swallow the sun. Maybe he’s being too subtle. He’s got to buy them some more time.

***

The angels give him a big old fat wad of cash. Cassidy decides to visit the local den of iniquity. He has a plan, and he intends to stick to it, but he needs to be less weird around Jesse. Which means more drugs, and maybe a blowjob.

Looking back on it, that’s where everything really started to go wrong. He’s making time with a lovely girl who makes the most exquisite noises under him when something hits him, he jumps to get away from it, and it hits him again, and he falls through a window. There’s glass making him bleed from some important places, and between the dizziness of blood loss and the drugs, he blacks out.

When he comes to, there’s a beautiful voice praying for him. He wonders briefly if he somehow went home, remembering vaguely a time when his mother had prayed fiercely for him, but reality shifts in and he remembers the whorehouse and the drugs, and finally, the window. He hurts, but he knows he’ll live, so when she promises to be good, he says, “Then kiss me.”

“What?” she asks.

“Kiss me.” He’d wanted to be distracted from the Preacher. How much more distracting can you get than a girl who tries to kill you on the first date?

She kisses him, and Cassidy thinks he can hear bells. “It’s gonna be all right, you’re gonna make it,” she tells him breathlessly. And there it is again. Hundred and eighty years of being a vampire and nothin. No feeling beyond maybe a bit of pleasure. Even the drugs didn’t do much for him anymore. And now twice in as many days the world had dropped out from under him and left him hopelessly in love with the person in front of him. What had Jesse done to him?

He doesn’t try to hide when she finds him with the bags of blood. She’d been trying to get a doctor to see him when he slipped away. It had been adorable but ineffective. She looks at him. He looks back and finally says, “You’re right love. I think I’m gonna make it.” He smiles charmingly, not stopping to wonder if the blood running down his chin will make it less effective.

He’s pleasantly surprised when without a word, the beautiful woman leans down, gets his arm around her shoulders. He leans on her more than he has to. Losing so much blood has left him cold, and she’s so warm. And she smells good. Soft, sweet, girl sweat he doesn’t know why he doesn’t expect. It’s unexpected like the gentleness of her hands when she helps him into a cab. Her hair smells of something else. Floral, a little spicy. He thinks the word frangipani, but he doesn’t know if it’s a perfume or something else. He’s feeling a bit bleezered between the drugs and the blood loss and the influx of fresh blood. He leans his head back against the seat, and is surprised when Tulip gets in the cab with him, gives an address to the cabbie. He nods a bit on the ride, and stumbles as Tulip helps him into a house he’s never seen before. If he hits the floor, he doesn’t remember it.

When he blinks himself awake, the sun is up. He’s lying in a bed that’s not quite lumpy enough to be uncomfortable but seems clean. He’s clean, and wearing a shirt and pants that fit, but he’s never seen before in his life. He can feel her there in the room, so he blinks again, and looks up at her leaning against the doorframe. She’d said her name was Tulip. Her beauty hits him like a punch in the gut, and he has to take a long, slow breath to keep from gasping. He wants to touch her. More than that, but she doesn’t look much like she wants to be touched, so he just smiles. “Go on, then. Ask me.”

She sips her coffee. “Fangs?”

He shakes his head, looking away. He’d been a little disappointed, honestly. “No.”

“Turn into a bat?”

She sounds more aggressive this time, and he wonders if he’s in love with the world’s weirdest woman. He chuckles, “No.”

“Sleep in a coffin?”

He rolls his eyes. “Not if I can help it.”

“Afraid of the cross?”

“It’s a two-thousand-year-old symbol of hypocrisy, slavery, and oppression.” He yawns and scratches his stomach. “But it won’t burn my face off.”

She comes a little further into the room, and Cassidy can feel himself turning toward her. She’s seen him naked. He has to cross his legs to hide the way that makes him feel. Wouldn’t do to scare her off. “Silver bullets?” she demands.

“That’s a werewolf.”

She fixes him with a look. “Sunshine?”

He nods. “Oh yeah, that’s legit,” he says lightly. She could throw the curtains open, and he’d be in for a world of hurt.

“You’d die?”

He sidesteps the question. “The invention of sunscreen, that was a nice bonus. But I’ve got to be careful. I can’t just go wandering out.” He sticks his hands behind his head, under the pillow. “Gotta bundle up. Sleeves, hat, shades and that,” He shrugs a little. “Otherwise, it’s trouble.”

“You kill people?” She’s close enough now that he could touch her, but he doesn’t.

“Not if they don’t deserve it,” he tells her, looking into her eyes. His hands curl into the pillow under his head, seeking comfort.

“But you drink blood?”

He nods. “It helps me heal.” He doesn’t know why he’s having an attack of honesty. He doesn’t want to lie to her. “All things bein equal, I’d rather have a single malt.”

She comes even closer. “So you never like, crave human blood?”

He craves her with a ferocity that threatens to take his breath away, but it’s not her blood he wants. Hell, it’s not even sex. He wants her to touch him. “No,” he says plainly. He wonders what her lipstick tastes like. “Not really.”

“Hmm,” her arms fold across her chest.

“Hmm,” he echoes, smiling.

“You can leave now,” and fuck him if she’s not even more beautiful when she’s kicking him out.

He follows her down the stairs. “Listen, before I go, a couple of things...” She’s picking up beer cans and taking them to the trash, he realizes. “One, I’m looking for some drugs, possibly in the opiate family. I was wondering if there was a direction you might point me in?” She rolls her eyes and walks away from him. “That’s a no, then.That’s all right.” He follows her into the kitchen. “Question two. You don’t happen to know where there’s a hardware store nearby do ye, by any chance?”

“There’s one just outta town,” she tells him flatly. “Take the main to route fourteen.” she tosses him a look over her shoulder, and he stalls just at the kitchen door. “Opposite the strip club.”

He nods, chuckling. “Oh yeah, I’ll find that.” He doesn’t want to leave. Not yet. Not ever, he admits to himself. “So this is a nice place ye have. I see linoleum’s hip again. And as a bonus, there’s an old feller passed out in the back.” He laughs awkwardly. “So, the other night.” He steps closer. Crazy, eh? It’s quite the moment -”

She cuts him off. “There was no moment.”

“Well, you kissed me,” he replies, quite reasonably, if he does say so himself.

:”I thought you were dying!” she yells back.

Jaysis, she’s beautiful. He has to tell her. “Yeah, all right, maybe so. Look, I don’t know exactly what’s happenin here, I don’t know what to call it, but I do know I’m too old to be playing games, so...” he takes a breath. “I... I’ve fallen for ye, Tulip.” his stomach flips and he smiles a little. It’s a very human sensation. He hadn’t thought to miss it until now.

She laughs. It stings, but he ignores it. It’s hardly the first time a beautiful woman has done that. “I have! I’ve fallen hard.”

“Really?” she sasses.

He nods. “Yep.”

“I have a boyfriend,” she retorts.

“What the old feller in the back?” He finds he enjoys winding her up.

“That’s my uncle,” she snaps, clearly disgusted.

“Clearly, I need help getting up to speed?” he offers.

To his surprise, she brings him up to speed. He learns about her unnamed asshole boyfriend, and Carlos, a man she obviously wants dead. She doesn’t give details of how he betrayed her, but Cassidy doesn’t care. Anyone who makes a woman this beautiful this sad -- and Cassidy can see the sadness under the simmering anger -- well, they deserve to die. He finds he agrees with her assessment that the boyfriend is an asshole. “Maybe this boyfriend isn’t the man you thought he was?” he asks. He’d follow her to the end of the world, himself. For some reason, it feels wrong to say it, though. She doesn’t kick him out until she herself is leaving, though.

He considers that a good sign.

He finds the strip club before he finds the hardware store. Funny that she’s got him all figured out when they barely know each other. He takes it as a sign that the connection he feels is real. It’s dark when he leaves. He’s almost completely blutered, he must be, because somewhere behind his eyes a fully color viddie of tulips opening plays.

“You found the hardware store.” she says flatly, as he’s thanking the proprietor for his hospitality.

He’s actually a bit embarrassed, which hasn’t happened in a long time either. “Well, I uh, I took the scenic route,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

She holds up a prescription bottle. “I got you a present.”

He takes it. Oxycodone. Opiates, just as he’d asked. He swears he can feel his unbeating heart give a flutter. “Ohhh, lassie. That’s so sweet.” He smiles. “Are we going steady now?”

She looks up at him with the deepest brown eyes. “Even better,” she says. “We’re in love.”

He’s not an idiot. He knows she doesn’t mean it. He sees the flowers opening again, though. Maybe he can change her mind.  
***

Preacher doesn’t strike him as the whoremongering type. So when he sees Jesse’s pickup truck at a shitty motel late that night, he parks the van and goes to check on him. He not three steps toward the long line of doors, headed for the one closest to Jesse’s truck when he hears the fighting.  
Well, at least he knows what door it is.

He opens the door carefully, picks up a gun from the ground, and shoots the woman trying to slit Jesse’s throat right in the center of her forehead. “You boys throw a party and didn’t invite me?”  
He was expecting a better response. Jesse and the angels stare up at him, horrified. “Oh, well, you’re welcome, then,” he wisecracks. Then there’s a light, and the woman he just killed tackles him to the ground. “Clones! Bloody clones!” He shoots her again.

They eventually get the better of the bloody thing. The angels want their terrible 80s band back. Jesse decides he’s gonna keep it. Like it’s a bloody dog and not something that nearly got them all killed. Frankly, Cassidy thinks it’s a terrible idea, but it’s not his decision. When Jesse says “C’mon, Cass!” Cassidy follows him without a word.

Jesse strips the second he enters the kitchen, and Cassidy realizes how disgusting they both are. He follows suit, and they stand there in their skivvies watching the washer go round. Cassidy has to do something to distract himself before he does something unfortunate. After all, he has a girlfriend now, doesn’t he? He says the first thing that pops into his head that isn’t sexual. “It’s a bit like Pulp Fiction, isn’t it?”

Jesse smiles and puffs his chest out a little. “And I’m Vinnie Vega.”

It would be better if Cassidy’s libido responded negatively to that piece of ridiculousness. It really would. He looks Jesse up and down again. Damn. Maybe not so ridiculous. He swallows. “That’s cool.” He forces himself to look anywhere but at Jesse. “I’ll be Samuel L. Jackson. That’s a proper hard man, you know.” Oh, shite. That was a terrible choice of words. He pretends to notice for the first time how badly he smells. “Oh, that’s really boggy. I’m gonna hit the shower, man.”

“Cold only, while the washer’s running,” Jesse reminds him. “Beer while we wait?”

Cassidy hadn’t forgotten, just felt the need for a cold shower. He doesn’t really want to say no, though, so he plays along, pretending to be horrified at the thought. “At ten in the morning?”

Jesse grins and grabs him a beer. Cassidy feels like he won some obscure battle he hadn’t known he was fighting. Jesse has dimples when he smiles. “Clone people?” Jesse asks him incredulously, handing him a beer.

Cassidy takes it, levering himself carefully to sit on the kitchen table. He leans gingerly back against the wall. He’s got some broken ribs. “To be fair, I did try to tell you about that,” he says, raising his bottle to Jesse.

Jesse clinks their bottles together like they’re toasting, which is also heartwarmingly ridiculous. “That you did,” he acknowledges and downs his entire bottle. So whatcha been doin? Or don’t I wanna know?”  
“Ah, the odd bit of mischief here and there.” He opens his arms, inviting Jesse to look. He’s bruised pretty much everywhere. “Fell in love, got pushed off a building, fell in love, went to the hospital. Nothing to worry your head over.”

Jesse turns away and kicks the washing machine, which immediately begins to make a less irritating sound. Cassidy smiles his approval when Jesse turns back. He doesn’t seem to notice. “Fell in love?”

“Twice,” Cassidy tells him with the utmost sincerity. Jesse gives him a dubious look anyway, so Cassidy changes the subject. “That’s some serious ink you go there, Padre. Where’d you get it?”

Jesse gives him a blank look. “A mean old lady gave it to me.” He looks at Cassidy. “What about you? You look like a men’s room wall.” He tosses out his empty bottle and turns to the refrigerator to get another.

He shrugs. “I went through a period of low impulse control.”

Jesse grins at him. “Thank god that’s over with.”

Cassidy grins back. “Oh, yeah.” He licks his lips. The washer starts making that godawful sound again, and Jesse turns to glare at it. “What about that one there,” he points to an outline on Jesse’s shoulder.

He turns back to Cassidy and sighs. “That’s my Tulip,” Jesse informs him.

Cassidy sees the flowers opening again. “Oh, it’s lovely.”

Jesse eyes him. “You’re all about the love suddenly, Cass.”

“Mmm,” Cassidy agrees. “Got it on the brain.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Jesse’s drinking this beer more slowly.

Cassidy is just finishing his first one. He looks at Jesse. “You asking as Preacher or as my mate?”

Jesse finishes his second beer and gets them another round from the fridge. “I can’t be both?”

“You’re a little judgy on the Preacher side, just sayin.” Cassidy replies.

Jesse takes the criticism better than Cassidy had feared. “All right then. I’ll try to leave him out of it.”

Cassidy shakes his head. “Don’t you think we have bigger problems? What’re you gonna do about Genesis?”

“Whaddya mean what am I gonna do? I’m keeping it like I said.”

“I dunno, Padre.” Cassidy has to look away. “Now, those fellers might not seem like the sharpest shivs in heaven’s shed, I mean, but still, you said they were bloody angels.”

Jesse lifts his chin. “Yeah, and?”

“And I don’t know how it works, but don’t... I dunno. Don’t they outrank you?” Cassidy asks. “Don’t you kinda have to listen to them?”

“I don’t have to listen to anyone but God.” Jesse insists.

Cassidy sighs. “Oh. Forgot about his plan for you and all that.” Jesse is headed straight for the deep end, and Cassidy has no bloody idea how to stop him.

Jesse doesn’t seem to understand the source of Cassidy’s disquiet. “You still doubt that? After everything that’s happened?”

Cassidy shrugs. “I doubt everything all the time. It’s the only way to live.”

“Well that’s where you and I part company,” Jesse says piously.

Cassidy only doesn’t roll his eyes because Jesse really is his best mate. “Look, I’m just saying, if it was up to me, I wouldn’t be messin around with it!”

“Well, it’s not up to you, Cassidy. It’s up to me.” Jesse won’t be moved. But he crosses the room to sit closer.

Cassidy hates himself a little for how much that mollifies him. “All right then. All right. What’re you gonna do? Come on?”

Jesse looks surprised. “Same as before,” he explains. “Nothing’s changed.” His eyes flicker up and down Cassidy’s body like flames. “Still a lot more goin on around here that needs doin.”

“Like what?” Cassidy says, throwing up his hands. Jesse is a good man, but stubborn as a rock. “More what?”

“More,” Jesse replies dreamily. “What about you?”

Cassidy laughs. “Am I something that needs doin?”

Jesse’s eyes flicker over him again. “Maybe.” But before Cassidy can decide whether to be afraid or turned on, the washer stops. “I’ll throw those in the dryer,” he points at Cassidy. “Don’t use all the hot water.”

***

 

Cassidy gives up on not masturbating when ice cold water does nothing to stop him from getting hard. It’s not really cheating if he only touches himself, right? Even if he can’t stop thinking about what kind of orders the Preacher could give. He can’t think of a damn thing he wouldn’t do if Jesse just asked, but for some reason thinking of Jesse’s parlor trick in Jesse’s terms makes it better. The Word. The literal, actual word of God. Coming from the mouth of a very attractive man. And Cassidy wouldn’t be able to screw it up. Jesse could keep him under control. Jesse’s God must know that Cassidy couldn’t do it for himself. He shakes his head, laughing at himself as he soaps his hand, leaning back against the wall. How fucked up is he that the idea of inescapable bondage to another man’s voice is the safest he can imagine feeling, and that’s what’s making him hard, when he’s also in love with probably the most dangerous woman he’s ever met. She’d come closer to killing him than the vampire hunters.

Well. That’s kind of a boner killer isn’t it? He concentrates on Jesse. The man clearly had a taste for inflicting pain. He remembered the near sexual look of satisfaction on Jesse’s face when he’d broken that Confederate asshole’s arm. He’s fully hard again in seconds. He squeezes his cock and wonders if Jesse could get off on a more controlled form of damage. Cassidy can take one hell of a beating and be just fine with some blood. He wonders if Jesse could order him to come and that’s so good he has to stroke himself. He hisses softly at the intensity of the pleasure. He does it again, slowly and firmly, thinking about Jesse’s voice making his orgasm inescapable. He’s nearly there when it occurs to him. Jesse could order him not to, and it would be impossible. An image crystallizes so clearly in his mind - himself, naked, head down, arse up on the Preacher’s bed, Jesse ploughing into him, but it feels so good, and Jesse says “Don’t come,” and slaps his ass... How high on pleasure could he get before Jesse made him come? The idea that Jesse could deny him rolls over him like a wave of fire, and paradoxically, makes him come harder than he has since he was 18 and just starting to make headway with girls. Tulip. She’s a girl. And at least she wants him for something. Even if he doesn’t believe it’s love.

 

He turns the shower off and gets out, feeling colder than he had under the water.


	3. Tulip: Don't give a damn about my bad reputation

Tulip can’t find Jesse yet again, and she knows exactly who she’s going to take it out on. She knows Emily wants the whole Preacher thing. She’d be the wife and she and Jesse would raise her brats and they would be “Preacher Custer and his Wife”. God, they’d probably have a fucking reality show on TLC. Nauseating. She drives to Emily’s house, storms in and Jesse isn’t there either. It just makes her angrier.

“Excuse me,” Emily says, and Tulip can tell she’s trying not to be angry and that makes her even angrier.

She snatches something brightly colored off the table and points it at Emily. She doesn’t really know why. She screams, “STAY AWAY FROM MY BOYFRIEND,” and she’s not sure why she does that either. Jesse’s not here. She smashes the thing that’s in her hand and storms back out to the car.

Where she sits. She’s still angry. She grips the steering wheel and stares into the distance, trying to calm down. Figure out what just happened and why. She startles when Emily bangs on the car window. Tulip rolls down the window. “You just broke my kid’s art thing!” she yells.

Tulip likes her better when she’s mad. She takes a second to calm down when Emily storms back into her house and goes to the door. “What?!” Emily yells through the door without opening it. 

Tulip had known Emily was human before in a theoretical way, but the pettiness of refusing to open the door makes it more real, and she really starts to feel bad about taking her shit with Jesse out on her. “I’ll fix it,” she offers, meaning the kid’s art thing. Or maybe the bad she had done here. Something.  
Emily flings the door open. “What?” she demands, still angry.

Tulip doesn’t blame her. She’d been kind of an asshole. “The art thing. I’ll fix it,” she says, stepping around the door before Emily can say no.

Emily silently goes to a drawer, gets a bottle of superglue and puts it next to Tulip. Tulip diligently tries to put an object she’d never really looked at back together. It’s a little like a Chinese dragon. Or a snake with feet. She can’t be sure. But she concentrates so Emily folding clothes silently a foot away from her won’t feel as awkward.

She doesn’t last long. “Can I get you something to drink? Water, lemonade?” she asks. Hospitality is apparently more important than Tulip being a dick, and Tulip is grateful, but it takes her a second to respond, wanting the words that will smooth it over. Emily takes the silence as rejection. “I have beer?”

Tulip has a flash of Walter. “It’s ten in the morning,” she says, and it comes out harsher than she’d intended. Dammit.

Emily looks like Tulip kicked her puppy. “Water?”

“Sure,” Tulip says, not trusting her mouth anymore.

Emily gets her a glass of water and goes back to folding. “How long you in town for?”

Tulip tries hard not to bristle at that. “How long have I been here, or how long am I gonna be here?” Tulip studies Emily’s face while she waits for the answer.

Emily’s response tells Tulip she didn’t mean anything by it. “Both,” she says after a pause. “I don’t know. Either.” Tulip looks at her. “Never mind.”

So it was just awkward small talk. Tulip looks back down at the art thing. She doesn’t know what to say, so she just keeps trying to fix it.

“That’s a nice car,” Emily tries again after an awkward moment.

And this, this is something Tulip can talk about. She smiles. “72 Chevelle SS,” she tells Emily proudly. She loves that damn car. “Crate 350 with a cowl induction hood and 4-11 gears.” She figures out where this one big piece she couldn’t figure out how to fit goes and wiggles it into place triumphantly. “Flowmaster. TA tires.” She looks up at Emily and can see she has no earthly idea what Tulip just said. 

She tries. “Nice,” she says. 

Tulip nods. The sea monster-giraffe art thing is finally fixed. “That’s a nice ashtray,” she says, gesturing at it.

Emily looks embarrassed. “Oh, that? That’s a sugar caddy.” She smiles.

Tulip hates her, just a little. “Well, it’s nice.”

Emily doesn’t respond right away, She puts the folded laundry into the basket and takes it into another room. When she comes back she sits carefully in the chair closest to Tulip and leans forward, her elbows on the table. She looks Tulip in the eye. “Look. I know we have differences. And I can see you and Jesse have some things to work out. But I don’t want us to be enemies. I care about Jesse, but if you two are still trying to work something out, I’m not interested in getting in your way. Can we...” she looks down at the gesture she’s making with her hands and folds them on the table instead. “Can we find some common ground?”

Tulip is just a little bit thrown. She’s not used to church people being so honest. Especially in Annville. But she takes the straightforwardness as an olive branch. She smiles, tentatively. “I was trying.”

Emily smiles back, ducking her head and laughing. “God, me too. And just failing so badly.”

Tulip chuckles. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

It’s easier after that. “You and Jesse were gone a long time. Where’d you go?”

Tulip’s in the middle of recounting the time she flattened Elizabeth Taylor’s tire when the little girl in the other room calls out. Tulip looks on wistfully. Enviously, if she’s being honest. Emily has a lot of what she wanted. Hadn’t known she wanted until it happened. Hadn’t known she’d kill or die for until she’d lost it. Jealousy is why she’s so angry with Emily.

She’s still angry, but it fades. It’s the impotent anger at the universe not armed and ready to launch nuclear warheads at another woman. Emily comes back and Tulip busies herself folding church programs. She joins Tulip in folding. She looks tense, and when the little girl calls for her again, she yells “WHAT?!” in a way that reminds Tulip of her own mother. She watches greedily as Emily gives the child a drink, an ache somewhere deep inside her that feels physical even though she knows it isn’t.

“God, she’s driving me crazy,” Emily sighs, covering her face with her hands. She sighs. “Sorry. It’s just that I have like, 10,000 things to do before Sunday and sick days just...” She shakes her head.

Tulip has some experience with being the child of a woman who works hard but still struggles. “Well, I could watch her, if you’ve got stuff to do.” The empathy she feels is already making her mad. This woman wants to usurp her place in Jesse’s life.

She sees something close up in Emily’s eyes. “Thanks. I’ll be okay,” she says, though they can both tell it’s a lie.

“I seriously don’t mind. I can read to her, bring her juice, whatever. Let her sleep.”

“Yeah. I just worry,” Emily laughs.

Tulip can feel herself start to bristle, but she sees the dark circles under Emily’s eyes and makes the offer again. “Go do your thing. We’ll be fine.”

“Have you ever watched kids before?” Emily asks tentatively. “I mean, do you have any experience?”

And Tulip knows that Emily is picturing how she grew up. She would too. Her momma had tried. Tried so hard. But this fucking town had killed her. She tries not to be bitter. “I had a kid once. That count?”

She can’t help but feel a little pleased at Emily’s horror, though. “Oh. That’s, uh...” She pauses again and looks Tulip in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she says, softly, but sincerely.

Tulip’s never really had a friend that wasn’t Jesse. She’s surprised by how much she wants this connection. “It’s fine,” she tells both Emily and herself. “Or, if you want I can take the church stuff,” she amends her offer, reaching out again. “You can stay here, take care of your little girl. Whatever, if it will help.”

“Thanks,” Emily says, her eyebrows climbing her forehead in surprise. “That’d be great.”

“Mmmm-hmm,” is Tulip’s only reply, as she keeps folding flyers.

Tulip doesn’t realize that she’s actually done herself a favor until she gets to the church. She’s got the box of flyers under her arm and is hefting a metal basket of wine in the other hand. Jesse, who was nowhere to be found earlier in the day is doing setting up chairs outside in anticipation of the crowd. “What is that?” he hollers after her suspiciously.

“Oh just some stuff Emily asked me to drop off,” she answers breezily, knowing the mention of his church-wife will give him pause. Maybe befriending her isn’t the worst idea.

“What kind of stuff?”

Tulip rolls her eyes. “Programs, plates, wine. Church stuff,” she yells back without stopping.

She’s gonna get a pizza for Emily and the kids when she reports back.

She’s putting things away in the closet when Cassidy finds her. She braces herself. She repeats “He’s a tool and I regret trying to make my boyfriend jealous by sleeping with his best friend,” like a mantra over and over in her head. Jesse still doesn’t know. She’s determined he never will. Thing is, Cassidy thinks she and Jesse are over. She’s got secrets from both of them, but she’s gonna have to come clean with Cassidy and she knows it. She doesn’t know why she hasn’t. It’s harder than she expected.

“Risky, coming to the church to sneak into a closet with me,” he croons, shutting the door behind him. “Tried to forget about me, put me out of your head, but the craving came on so strong you just couldn’t help yourself. You had to hunt me down like a wild-” he’s interrupted by Jesse calling her name.

Shit.

He must see the truth on her face. “You’re still with him?” he looks afraid and Tulip doesn’t have time to wonder why. “Should’ve known that. So what do we do now?”

She pushes him behind the door just before Jesse opens it, pretending she doesn’t see how sad he looks.

“What’re you doing?” Jesse demands.

She rolls her eyes. “Putting stuff away. Emily asked me to help out, so I’m helping out.” In spite of the precariousness of the situation, she enjoys the tiny spark of fear in Jesse’s eyes when she mentions Emily’s name.

“Emily did?” he asks, suspicious.

She knows he wants to know why she and Emily are working together, why she’s not jealous all of a sudden. It feels damn good to deny him the satisfaction. “Mmmhmmm. We've been working together all day, pretty much. We folded all those programs, but Jenny’s sick, so I did a bunch of errands and dropped some things off. Gonna pick up a pizza and bring it back for the kids later.”

He mouths “Jenny?” with a confused look, but she just lets him stay confused. He should pay more attention. She puts her hand on his chest and pushes him out of the closet, letting the door shut behind her. That was way too close a call.


	4. Jesse - God's Gonna Cut You Down

Jesse knows he’s wrong, is the worst part. He knows the pride he’s feeling is a sin. He’s not glorifying God. He’s glorifying himself. He _knows_. But it just feels so damn good to break his losing streak, he can’t stop. It feels like _freedom_.

 

He knows he’s wrong, and the irony of him putting up a loudspeaker to carry his voice outside the church isn’t lost on him. He knows Cassidy isn’t wrong, standing under the ladder shouting up at him.

 

“Now look,” Cassidy yells, squinting in spite of the sun hat he’s wearing. It makes Jesse roll his eyes. Cassidy is one pale motherfucker, but he acts like the sun would set him on fire. Jesse remembers he’s supposed to be listening. “I’m not one to back down from losing a fight, or making a bad decision.” Jesse has turned away, busy with the hammer, but he can imagine Cassidy’s  _ look at me _  gesture, and it makes him smile. “But there’s asking for trouble, and there’s bloody begging for it.” Jesse decides the speaker is as secure as it’s gonna get and starts back down the ladder. “Now listen, even to myself, right? Even I’m saying. Even I think this looks like a mistake.”

 

Jesse knows he’s wrong and he cocks his hip and smirks at Cassidy anyway. “This is why Genesis was given to me, Cassidy,” he says. Calmly, with assurance, as if he hadn’t ever considered doubting it. “This is what it’s for.” He pauses and repeats what has become his mantra, half reminder, half prayer. “God doesn’t make mistakes.” He turns away, heading back into the church, tapping the ladder with his hammer as he passes it. “Grab the ladder?” He can’t continue this conversation.

 

“God may not make mistakes, but people are bloody famous for it!” Cassidy calls after him, as Jesse lets the door slam itself shut behind him.

 

He drops the hammer in the closet and shuts it behind him, going to his knees to pray. “God, if you can hear me, I need to know what the right thing is. I need a sign, Lord. I know you left Jesus to doubt in Gethsemane to teach us about faith, but I have doubts. Forgive me, Lord. I can’t tell if I’m being steadfast or selfish.” Jesse scrubs his hands through his hair. If you don’t make mistakes, wasn’t this meant to come to me? If I don’t use your gifts, how can that be right? It can’t be wrong just because it feels good, can it?” Jesse bows his head in the dark and waits for an answer. It doesn’t come. After a long, dusty silence, he sighs and climbs to his feet. There’s still a lot to do before service tomorrow.

 

The Mayor comes to him while he’s outside setting up chairs, having pretty much the same questions about something bad he wants to do Jesse had just asked. Jesse doesn’t have any more answers than he did five minutes ago, so he gives Miles the answer he wants to be true. “Either you and God are saying the exact same thing, either that or you’re not hearing god at all.” If this was his sign, then it was an ambiguous one. He’s just going to have to do what he thinks is right. Tulip appears in the parking lot, She pulls a box and a basket of wine out of her trunk and he squints at her as she carries them into the church. He tries to get him to tell her what she’s doing, but she’s evasive. He turns back to see Miles left while he was distracted. Curious, he follows her into the Church. She’s not in the foyer, so he calls her name. “Tulip? Tulip, where are you?” The closet door is closed, but she might be in there, putting things away. He opens the door, and there she is, wine on its shelf and a box of folded programs on a small side table. “What’re you doing?”

 

“Putting stuff away. Emily asked me to help out, so I’m helping out,” she tells him, her eyes wide and innocent.

 

“Emily did?” Jesse is suspicious. Last he knew of, Tulip hated Emily. What is she up to? But then, maybe she was trying to be good. They haven’t been together since Tulip demanded he spank her, what with everything going on at the church. If she’s actually trying to get positive attention, Jesse decides he has to make the time to give it to her. 

 

“Mmmhm,” she says gesturing at the programs. “Been helping her all day. Pretty much folded all these program things. Did a bunch of errands. Choir robes are in the trunk. I’ll go get those in a minute.”

 

Jesse smiles and starts to step into the closet, thinking to reward her when she pokes him in the chest with one of their childhood relics. A mini golf club. “You kept this.”

 

Jesse blushes. There’d been a time when anything Tulip had touched had been a holy object to him. “I just forgot to get rid of it.”

 

Tulip sees right through him, as usual. “No, you kept it,” she taunts him gently.

 

Maybe the closet isn’t enough. God knows he wants more. The tiny bit of naughtiness to her smile just makes him want more. “Put it down,” he says, putting as much daddy into his tone as he dares, hoping Tulip will pick up what he’s laying down.

 

She does, grinning and pushing him out of the closet; letting it close behind her. He’s surprised when she just kisses his cheek. “Come get the robes? I promised Emily and Jenny I’d be back with Jenny’s juice.”

 

Jesse is a little stunned. He just nods at first. “Emily’s daughter’s name is Alice.”

 

Tulip’s stride breaks just a little. “Oh. Well, it’s kind of a joke. I was there all day today. It’s kid stuff. You’d have had to be there to get it.” She pulls the robes gently from the back seat and lays them over his arm. “I’m making dinner tonight, right? After service. Can Emily come? The kids will be visiting with their grandparents because _Alice_ is sick.”

 

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Jesse wonders if he stepped into some alternate dimension.

 

All Jesse can do is sit there with his arms full of choir robes and watch her drive away. 

When everything is all set up, Jesse goes into the Sanctuary to pray and prepare. By which he mostly means pace up and down the aisle and worry that he’s doing the wrong thing. He’s doing just that when Emily comes in.

 

“Eugene wants to see you,” she says. She seems... nervous, maybe? Upset. It’s not like she hasn’t been making it clear she feels his path is questionable.

 

“I’ll talk to him later.” He tells himself he’s reassuring her when he asks, “This is good, right?”

 

She nods, but her words are less than encouraging. “It’s a lot of people.”

 

“Lot of people coming to get saved,” he retorts. “Nothing wrong with that.”

 

“And you didn’t even need to bet your daddy’s land or bribe ‘em with a TV, neither,” Emily replies, flatly.

 

“You disapprove,” Jesse says. It’s not a question. “I understand,” and he does, he really does. But... “This’s all working now, right?” He looks around at the church that’s about to be full to overflowing. “This is good.”

 

Emily puts her hands on her hips. She looks angry. “Yeah, it’s good.” She’s angry still, but nods and Jesse thinks maybe she still believes in him a little.

 

“Thanks for all this Em,” he says, nodding around at the immaculately prepared pews. “For everything.”

 

She actually smiles. “You’re welcome.”

 

He’s not sure where the poisonous impulse to continue as she’s walking away comes from. “You and Tulip did a great job, setting this up.” He knows it will hurt Emily, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth he regrets them.

 

She turns and gives him a level look, but he can see the vulnerability in her eyes. “Tulip? Yeah.”

 

She gets him back, though.

  
“I’ll send in Eugene,” she says, shutting the door firmly behind her.


	5. Cassidy - What do you mean?

Cassidy thought his heart would break when Tulip left him in the closet, but the pain actually got worse when he saw the lost look on Jesse’s face when he sent that arse faced boy to hell. He’d been coming to find Jesse and hopefully try to sway him one last time on the whole Genesis thing. He’d stood there, frozen in the gallery, and watched Jesse look around the now-empty room, then turn and open the church doors. He turned around and went back into the attic room he’d claimed as his own, shutting the door behind him. He needed to think.

 

He’s not able to catch Jesse alone for some time. The man certainly knows how to pull a disappearing act in plain sight. The church stays full, and Jesse stays in Padre mode. The sun goes down and the church is empty. Cassidy paces until the moon comes up. Midnight comes and goes. Jesse’s truck isn’t parked by the van, and Jesse’s heartbeat is nowhere in the building. He does down to his room anyway and stares at the empty bed.

 

He can’t talk at the man if he’s avoiding him. But the only thing he’s any good at is talking. Well, and surviving terrible decisions, but he’s a vampire. Jesse isn’t, and Cassidy fears that keeping Genesis is a terrible decision that might just kill his friend, one way or t’other. He listens to Jesse in the shower, racking his brains for the right words. He hears Molly Malone’s van pull up and the sounds of her making breakfast in the kitchen. It occurs to him to ask her for help in managing the Padre, but he’d have to explain and she’d probably assume he was high or lying. He hears the church people start coming in, waiting for Jesse’s attention. He waits until he hears Jesse doing his breakfast dishes at the sink, taking it as a sign that Genesis has taken a step back for the moment. He meanders into the kitchen like he’s just getting up. “Oooh, busy!” he comments, trying to be casual about the crowd.

 

“Mmmhm,” is Jesse’s only reply, not looking up from the sink.

 

“Corleone family wedding day busy,” he grins, hoping Jesse will get the reference. Jesse doesn’t respond, and Cassidy turns toward him. “So how’s it going, huh?” he asks more seriously.

 

Jesse still won’t look at him, and Cassidy has to work to keep the part of him that hates that under control. “It’s good,” The preacher says, absently. “How are you?”

 

“Good, yeah. Very good.” Cassidy’s answer is reflexive. He’s trying to come up with a way to approach the subject of the kid. He takes a few steps closer, bracing himself on the fridge. “But how are you doing?” He tries to catch Jesse’s eye.

 

It works. Jesse turns to look at him, his hands occupied with scrubbing his coffee mug. Cassidy mentally lowers his chances of getting punched for bringing it up until Jesse finishes the breakfast dishes, at least. “I’m still good, Cass,” he replies patiently. “What’s up?”

 

He takes a deep breath. “Now see, to me, I think what’s up with you seems like the more interesting question here, don’t you think?” He knows Jesse doesn’t know he knows, but saying it out loud with everyone here seems risky. He’s trying to get Jesse to pick up what he’s laying down without saying it directly, but the Padre seems oblivious.

 

Jesse’s starting to get irritated. “What’s up with me is I’m stuck in a weird conversation with you. Unfortunately I’ve got Bible study coming up soon, so unless you figure out what it is you want to talk to me about...” Jesse lets the end of the sentence hang like a noose.

 

“Yeah, I saw!” Cassidy says too loudly. He takes a breath and reins himself in, half-whispering. “I saw, all right!”

 

“What do you mean?” Jesse says, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

 

Cassidy closes his eyes. He knows Jesse isn’t like other preachers. He knows. But in this moment, it would be easy to forget that. He opens his eyes, looking around to make sure no-one’s listening. “With the arsey-faced kid, Jesse. I saw. You know?”

 

“Oh,” is Jesse’s only reply, going back to the dishes.

 

Cassidy tries really hard not to make moral judgements. He knows he hasn’t got a leg to stand on most of the time, but even he finds Jesse’s lack of concern outrageous. He looks at his friend incredulously. “Now, look. We’re best mates. We’ll figure something out,” he tries, hoping the monosyllabic response is a fear of judgement and not as callous as it seems. “I’m not judgin ye, man. I just need to know what I can do to help out, here.”

 

“Help what?” Jesse says, giving him a blank stare.

 

“With the kid, Jesse,” Cassidy drones, exasperated. “I saw what ye done to him.”

 

The blank stare continues for a moment, then Jesse finally steps closer. “Cass,” he begins. Then Molly Malone steps into the kitchen, and Jesse looks up. “You ready for me?” Jesse asks her. She says yes, and Jesse tosses the kitchen towel at him.

 

Conversation over. He sighs, standing in the kitchen wondering how to get through to the man before there’s none of him left. He can’t let Genesis take his friend. He’s still staring at the table and rubbing the back of his neck when Tulip comes in laden with grocery bags. He dodges out of the way of the sunbeam she lets in. “Hey,” he greets her.

 

She actually replies. “Hey.” and she dumps her bags on the table.

 

“What you got there?” he peers over he shoulder, curious.

 

“I’m cooking dinner,” she tells him flatly, as if she expects him to challenge her.

 

He smiles to himself a little. He already knows better. “Oh, dinner, eh?” He says noncommittally.

 

She rounds on him anyway. “Yeah, what of it?”

 

Well, it seems none of his conversations are going to go well. He decides to say what he thinks. “So whatever happened to getting out of here? Ripping the balls of whatshisname? Bloody Pedro.”

 

“Carlos,” she corrects him through gritted teeth. “We’re still doing that.” She turns away from him. “It’s just on pause.”

 

He knows she’s disappointed. He is a little too. He likes her. Wants to know what she’s like when she’s not so desperately unhappy. “I see,” he replies, a little lamely. He knows she has no intention of leaving the Padre behind. He knows it’s wrong to want her to take him instead. He lists off the things she’s putting away instead of mentioning it. “Hamburgers, pre-pattied. Hash browns.” He can’t stop himself from laughing when she gets to the vegetables, “Carrots sticks and a frozen vegetable medley, because why not?” He knows he’s pissing her off, but he also knows this middle America white bread schtick isn’t her. It’s not Jesse. He doesn’t know why either of them are involving themselves in this pantomime. He steps out of the way when she goes to shove everything, frozen veggies included, into the fridge. “I didn’t tell him, by the way,” he blurts.

 

“Tell who what?” she demands, turning back to grab her coffee, in a dinky little paper cup from the service station in town. Tastes like dirty engine oil, Cassidy knows, but when Tulip sips it, he can see her sitting at a cafe in Paris.

 

“Jesse,” he tells her. “About...” he doesn’t finish the sentence. Can’t. Can’t even moton to indicate the both of them. He just looks at her.

 

She leans her arm on the refrigerator, a position he recognizes from five seconds ago when he was doing it talking to Jesse. “Well that’s good,” she drawls at him, slamming the fridge door, “because he’d probably kill you.”

 

“He won’t kill me,” Cassidy scoffs confidently. “I’m his best friend.”

 

Tulip shrugs with practiced nonchalance. “And he’s my boyfriend. I still don’t tell him everything.”

 

Cassidy can’t take the time to process the implications of that. “All right, well if you’re his girlfriend, then why did you...” _tell me we were in love_ he doesn’t say.

 

Tulip senses his weakness. “Why did I what?” She leans in, bracing herself on the table, challenging.

 

Cassidy knows he shouldn’t ask. He should leave the room and drop the conversation. He knows Tulip won’t spare him. “Why did you make love to me t’other night?” he asks anyway, his voice rough with emotion.

 

Tulip guffaws right in his face. “Make love?” She laughs. “Oh, I didn’t.”

 

And there it is. Bald on the table between them. Cassidy doesn’t know what he expected. It hurts every bit as much as he thought it did. “Me and Jesse talk a lot is all, you know, and I didn’t say anything,” he concludes lamely. “So you’re bloody welcome.”

 

“You two talk a lot, huh?”

 

“All the time,” Cassidy asserts defensively.

 

“You tell him everything?” Tulip’s hands are on her hips and every alarm bell in Cassidy’s head goes off.

 

“Pretty much,” he’s on the defensive now. Blood in the water, and Tulip smiles like a shark.

 

“You tell him what you are?” she demands, looking him straight in the eye.

 

“Yes, absolutely!” he blurts before the question has fully left her mouth. He focuses on the soft red of the lipstick she’s wearing.

 

“Oh, really?” she studies him doubtfully, lifting her chin.

 

“I did! I told him like, nine times.” He knows it’s the wrong answer, the triumph in her eyes is too clear.

 

“Why’d you do that?” she asks like it’s nothing. Calm, innocent, but Cassidy can feel the coiled snake in the question, even if he doesn’t know what it looks like yet.

 

“Why’d I do what?” he asks to buy himself a moment where he doesn’t have to know. To forestall the snakebite a few more seconds.

 

“Why’d you tell him nine times?”

 

Shit. He pretends he’s not bit. “Because I thought it was worth repeatin!” he scoffs.

 

She laughs at him. “You didn’t tell him nine times. You didn’t tell him once. Not really. Not so he believed you.” She leans him close, fixing him in place with a level stare. “And you know why. Cause he wouldn’t be okay with it.” She ignored Cassidy’s reflexive denial, smirking as he shakes his head.

“Oh come on, that’s not true,” he scoffs, but he doesn’t know that for a fact and they both know she’s probably right.

 

“Okay,” she shrugs.

 

“Well it’s not!” he insists, because he’s more sure she’s right every second. She just smiles. “He’s a bloody preacher for Christ’s sake. He’s a preacher. His job is to, uhhh...” He has no idea what it is Jesse does, other than get into trouble with government clones. “You know, his job is to... is to...” he repeats, hoping something, anything will come to mind. Nothing does. He falters, and Tulip gives him a look. He gives up. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know exactly what his job is, but I know it’s not walking around just casting judgement. I bet I could tell him right now and he wouldn’t give a kitten’s arsehole.” Tulip is still smiling, not trying to interrupt, just grinning at him. “All right?” He really needs her to say yes. He needs her to be wrong.

 

“Who’s his favorite movie star?” Tulip challenges instead.

 

“What?!” he demands. Then he realizes they aren’t really arguing about what Jesse would do about him being a vampire any more. They’re arguing about who knows Jesse best. And with Tulip, that’s definitely not a winnable argument.

 

“His favorite movie star,” she demands. “Who does he think pretty much shits sunshine? Who would that be?”

 

He stutters and stumbles, because he really doesn’t know. “Ryan Philippe!” he blurts the first name that comes to mind. “It’s bloody Ryan Philippe, okay?!”

 

Tulip leans in again, enunciating very clearly. “John Wayne.” She looks at him, and he can’t meet her gaze, shaking his head as he looks away. “Wake up, Cassidy. Jesse’s a preacher’s boy from West Texas.” She sticks a straw in her coffee and sips it again.

 

“So what?” Cassidy demands. Jesse’s better than the prejudices he grew up with, for sure.

 

Tulip crosses the room, plops down in the chair with her drink and fixes him with yet another look. “So tell him if you really want to. See what he does.”

 

She’s right, and Cassidy hates it. “I bet I know a thing or two about him you don’t.”

 

“Like what?” Tulip scoffs.

 

“Like did you know he could make you do things just by telling you to?” he blurts. Telling Jesse’s secrets and he knows it’s wrong but being rejected by both of them just goddamn hurts. He knows he’s lashing out, but he’s got shite for self control, really.

 

Tulip snorts. “Not me.”

  
Cassidy moves to where he can see Jesse through the glass of the door, remembering that day in his bedroom when he could fly for just a second. “You’d be surprised.”


End file.
